


Because It's Tradition

by mixtapestar



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Steve's first Christmas out on the town since he woke up, and Tony intends to make it a good one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because It's Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [christmasbang](http://christmasbang.livejournal.com). Thanks to R & L for the beta work, and huge thanks to [ibonekoen](http://ibonekoen.livejournal.com) for the art!

  


There are few things Tony Stark enjoys more than the day-after-Halloween sales, especially now with his identity well established and circulating among America's favorite costumes. And what better way to get Steve out in the world than to drag him along?

"Look, mini-you is 50% off!" Tony says, holding up the tiny shield. They got the sequence of colors wrong, but he supposes they get points for trying. It's not like they see it sitting in the corner of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ every day like he does.

"I still don't understand why you brought me here," Steve says, examining a slutty nurse costume with a look of distaste.

" _Candy_ , Steve. They dress it up in orange and black wrapping which somehow becomes worthless the moment November 1st hits." Tony takes in Steve's expression and says, "Aw, I love when you get confused. Your face scrunches up in a certain way; it's adorable."

He punches Steve on the shoulder and leads the way to the candy aisle. Steve continues his argument unabated. "But you can afford all the candy you want, regardless of 'Blow-Out Clearance Sales'."

"Completely missing the point," Tony says, popping a Reese's cup free of its wrapper and into his mouth. "Don't look at me like that; I'm gonna pay for it."

"I've never seen a grown man get so excited about the prospect of candy, is all."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "You haven't been hanging out with the right men," he says, throwing a bag of Twix bars in Steve's direction. He notices when Steve's lips twitch into a smile; it would've been hard to miss Steve's epic discovery of them last month, but apparently he gets points for paying attention.

On their way out, Tony is busy tabulating how many days this haul will last him when he runs into Steve, who has stopped in the middle of the walkway. Tony follows his line of sight to the current Christmas display, but he's not sure what the problem is. "You need an artificial tree or something?"

"I don't..." Steve says, bewildered. "It's November 1st."

It takes Tony a moment, but he begins to comprehend Steve's predicament. "Right. I take it you didn't go out much last Christmas."

"But it's not Christmas yet," Steve says weakly, gesturing to Tony's pile of sweets. "It's still Halloween!"

"No, it's the day after Halloween, which marks the first official day of the consumerism of an American Christmas," Tony says, nonchalant. He calculates that he might have one too many bags, but if he leaves the extra bag of Milky Way's around, Bruce is bound to eat a few.

"What about Thanksgiving? What about _all of November_?"

Steve messes with his belt loop in that way he only ever does when he's worked up about something, and that's when Tony is hit with the weight of it. "This is actually upsetting you, isn't it?" Steve's expression stays serious as he heaves a sigh and continues on the way to the register, but Tony's question has been answered nonetheless. He recalls now that even though Steve had been awake last Christmas, he would've still been in rehabilitation, which meant no interaction with the outside world. And that's when he decides to show Steve the best 21st Century Christmas he can possibly imagine.

******

Much to Tony's annoyance, the next few weeks seem to drag by after he formulates a plan. Finally, though, the day arrives.

"Get in, loser, we're going shopping," Tony says, dipping his shades down to meet Steve's gaze. He's met with a blank gaze of incomprehension and sighs. It's like talking to an infant sometimes.

"It's 10 o'clock at night, Tony."

Tony scoffs. "And the first sale starts at midnight. Come on, I turned on the heated seat for you already."

He figures it's more curiosity in the end than anything else, but Steve gets into the car. Tony waits patiently for the click of his seatbelt - he's learned from the last time - before tearing off into the night. They get in the long line for Best Buy with just over an hour to spare, but he privately thinks there won't be anything left worth buying once they get inside.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing here?" Steve finally asks once they're settled in line with Tony's thermos of hot chocolate.

"It's called Black Friday," Tony explains, ignoring the questioning looks of the people that get in line behind them. "The day after Thanksgiving, all the stores mark everything down to ridiculous prices in order to get people in the store. It's the first real day of Christmas shopping."

Steve looks dubious, taking Tony's thermos and drinking from it as he observes the people around them as if assessing their sanity. Tony takes his lack of protest as a good sign. "Black Friday, is that because it's dark out?"

Tony laughs. The real explanation is on the tip of his tongue, but with Steve it doesn't seem to matter as much. "Sure, why not?"

*

It's an absolute disaster. Best Buy is a bust, and they get to see a guy drop a TV worth $800 and hear the horrifying shatter of glass that follows. After that the store seems to lose its glamour, especially when the guy tries to blame Steve for making him drop it. Tony was pretty sure Steve had been occupied trying out the demo of Dance Dance Revolution at the time, but it wouldn't be far-fetched for the guy to have gotten caught up staring at his attempt to play. Tony certainly hadn't been able to look away. In the end, he figures it's best to move on.

They give up on a craft store after ten minutes, and they can't even get inside Macy's. Tony can sense Steve's growing frustration, so he recommends one more store before they can head out. The relief is evident in Steve's voice when he agrees to one last stop.

As they continue walking through the throngs of people, though, Steve starts to get more restless. "I really don't see how this is worth it," he complains loudly, though Tony can hear him just fine without the raised voice. "I'm pretty sure that guy in that doorway was bleeding."

"Yeah, but he got the last $100 Wii, so I doubt he's complaining." He glances over at Steve's 'I'm disappointed with this America' face and bumps him in the shoulder. "Come on, just a few more blocks. Trust me."

He can feel Steve's judgment when they turn into a seemingly unmarked alley, but Tony continues on confidently until he sees the warm light of Andrew's. He greets the guy, Seth, at the door and points out that Steve is with him, and it's only a few moments before Steve is being pulled onto a stand and his measurements taken.

"Good god, Tony," Steve says incredulously as he lifts his arms. "I had every intention of getting a full night's rest tonight. Getting up early to work off the extra carbs from today's meal? That's what a responsible adult would do."

"Responsible adults are boring," Seth says, earning him a nod from Tony.

"You should take your shirt off," Tony tells Steve. "It helps with the measurement process."

Seth shoots him a look that says it does no such thing, but Tony just grins back at him cheekily. Steve pulls at his cuffs hesitantly for a moment before apparently making the decision to trust Tony. His shirt is off in seconds.

While Seth is off entering Steve's numbers into their system, Tony flicks through the racks and urges Steve to do the same. He mentally catalogues each item of clothing Steve holds up and seems to enjoy, encouraging him to try something on if it suits him.

Steve seems hesitant at first, but then asks, "All of this is on sale today, too?"

Tony glances over and has a quick, silent conversation with Seth. He points to his wallet and Seth nods, the two of them reaching a silent agreement. "Seventy-five percent off, as a matter of fact," Tony says, walking up behind him and holding a shirt just in front of Steve's chest. It matches his eyes perfectly, for someone who's into that sort of thing. Steve makes an appreciative noise and takes it from him, but Tony doesn't move back. He's enjoying the view.

Steve clears his throat after a moment and makes a quick statement about trying it on before rushing into the fitting area. Tony watches him go, red cheeks and all, and entertains thoughts of following him past that curtain.

Of course, two short minutes later, Steve rips a sleeve and gets them kicked out, but it was a nice moment while it lasted.

The ride back is quiet and almost awkward until Steve pulls a Twix bar out of his pocket and offers it to Tony. Tony laughs until he can almost forget the look of horror on Steve's face when the door to his tailor slammed behind him.

His next plan will go better.

******

"If you're going to drag me around town at the crack of dawn, at least buy me coffee first," Steve complains around a yawn.

Tony pretends to be put out but eventually smiles, cuffs Steve's neck and pulls him into the nearest Starbucks.

"So you really don't get cold that often," Tony says with some wonder as they continue down the sidewalk.

"Not really," Steve says as he sips at his frappuccino. "Fury says it's something to do with my accelerated metabolism, but I think it's just from living in Brooklyn."

A woman passing by on their left makes a big deal of checking Steve out in his tight button-up and jeans. Tony sees Steve notice her with a touch of surprise and then smile and give a little wave as she passes. He's pretty sure she swoons as they round the corner.

"Well, your choice in clothing certainly seems to have an effect on the locals," Tony says, pointing back in the lady's general direction. "This time of year they're not used to seeing muscles on display."

As they stop on the next corner to wait for the WALK sign, Steve's mouth quirks up on the side - a sign he's contemplating something. "I wish you wouldn't wear so many layers," he says, pulling at the sleeve of Tony's jacket. "T-shirts really suit you."

He stares at Tony's chest longer than is strictly necessary, until Tony glances down at his hand and raises his eyebrows slightly. A smile plays on Tony's lips, and he takes a half-step toward Steve. Unfortunately that's when the sign changes over, and Steve barrels forward as if nothing was happening. Once again Tony's left wondering if it's all in his imagination or if Steve's really that oblivious.

It's been a week since the fiasco of Black Friday, and Tony's determined to make this next Christmas event worth their while. He'd looked it up, and while the Rockefeller Center skating rink had existed for a few years during Steve's time, he's pretty sure it wasn't as big of a deal back then.

"Oh, wow," Steve says as the 74-foot tree comes into view. He stops and stares at it for a moment as if doubting its existence.

"You should take a picture," Tony suggests, only to be met with a confused look. "With your phone."

"Right," Steve says, ducking his head and digging for the phone in his pocket. Tony steps into his space to show him which buttons to press, remaining there until Steve lowers the phone. "You brought me all the way out here for a picture of a tree?"

Tony grins and shakes his head, leading Steve closer to look down at the spectacle below. "Ice skating."

"Oh, no, I don't think that's a good idea, Tony. Before my... I used to be horrible at ice skating."

"Used to be," Tony emphasizes. "Come on, I've seen you in action, you've got the coordination."

"Yeah, but--"

" _Trust_ me."

Apparently Steve does, because before long he's strapped on a pair of skates, and they're pushing their way onto the ice. Tony keeps a close eye on Steve, sticking close and offering support when necessary, but it quickly becomes clear that he can handle himself just fine.

It's going well. Steve is clearly having fun, and that's when Tony decides it'd be alright to show off a little. Nothing too fancy, just a couple jumps and things, but looking at Steve's delighted face, he decides the few lessons were worth every penny.

Which makes it all the more embarrassing when he twists his right ankle doing nothing more exciting than coasting.

Steve is there in a second. "Tony, are you okay? I thought I saw a first aid station, can you stand on it at all? Here, I can lift you up--"

"Steve," Tony cuts in. "Calm down. It's fine. I'll just go sit on the bench for a while. You enjoy yourself, and I can rest it for a little while before we head out."

"You think I'm just gonna stay down here and skate while you're sitting up there in pain? Good god, Tony, did you hit your head too on the way down?"

"It doesn't even hurt," Tony says, lifting himself up. He grimaces when he puts weight on it, almost falling back, but Steve catches him. "Much."

"That's it, I'm taking you to the hospital," Steve says, and Tony has to act fast to stop him from lifting him bridal style.

"Okay, two steps back there, Boss. First off, I'm no damsel in distress and second, I'm certainly not going to the hospital for a _twisted ankle_." Steve's bitchface is so epic Tony wants to patent it. "How about this: one arm around the waist until we get to the sidelines. Once I get the skates off I'll prove to you that I'm fine."

Steve reluctantly agrees, but even when Tony shows him that the foot's barely even swollen, he insists they take the subway back. "It'll take us three times as long to get back with your foot like this, and I promised Clint I'd be back to watch the game."

"You've got plans with Clint?" Tony says, affronted. He lets Steve help him up and, slowly, they make their way to the exit. "You don't even like football."

"I like football just fine," Steve says, tone clipped. He doesn't say anything else, and Tony stops himself from pointing out all the times Steve's complained when a game was on. He gets the point.

Steve asks someone to give up their seat for Tony on the subway. Despite Tony's arguments, the guy insists he was getting off at the next stop anyway. His ankle feels ten times better once he stops putting weight on it, but it still feels like defeat.

He's invited rather enthusiastically by Thor to watch the game with everyone, but he politely refuses. He drives lefty to his apartment on 5th and pretends not to watch the game on his couch. Steve texts him no less than 8 times - a sure sign that he's bored. Tony assures him that yes, his ankle is fine and that yes, the game usually does last this long. None of the texts mention whether or not he had a good time at the rink, but Tony figures that's for the best.

******

[](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v294/Ibonekoen/Christmascard.jpg)  
Click for full size

******

"I just don't understand how you can have this many cars and still risk life and limb to get a TV for half off on a Thanksgiving sale." Tony leads the way through the garage, smiling once again at Steve's confusion. "I mean for god's sake, you have a car you have no intention of driving!"

Tony follows the direction of his gesture toward the '69 Camaro. He makes a disbelieving face. "Who told you I had no intention of driving that?"

"Pretty sure you did, Tony."

Tony scoffs. "You shouldn't listen to that guy. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Steve smirks. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that."

"No, what I _said_ was that I had no intention of driving what I bought that day. But this," Tony says, wrenching the hood open to admire the work he's done, "this has been modified to sheer perfection, and in fact, I think it's what we'll take tonight."

"Dare I ask where we're going?" Steve asks, but Tony's busy examining his own craftsmanship. Damn, he's good. "Stop looking at the car like that, Tony, you might make a person jealous."

That gets Tony's attention. There's nobody else here to make jealous, so that was definitely flirting. The gleam in Steve's eye gives Tony one of his own. "You're right. Tonight's all about you." He closes the hood and moves toward the driver's seat. "You're gonna love this."

After twenty minutes of traffic and seven failed guesses on Steve's part as to what they're going to see, Tony hits the open road and their main destination. He thinks it's going fairly well, especially as Steve comments on his favorite decorated houses, but then his stomach sinks when Steve then guesses they're going to some sort of festival.

Tony makes a noise of contradiction. "I don't think you understand. This is it, I brought you to see the lights."

"Oh!"

"You're right, it was a stupid idea."

"No! It's great, I-- What are you doing?!" Steve asks urgently, grabbing onto the dash as Tony wheels the car around.

"I'll think of something else. This was a waste of time."

"I didn't say that--" but Tony speaks over him, "Seeing the lights isn't even a proper tradition," and Steve makes a couple more failed attempts to say something until finally he shouts, "Turn the damn car around!"

Tony is stunned into silence, and, after a quick check in his mirrors, deftly turns the car back in their original direction. They go on in silence for a few miles, Steve's arms crossed as he defiantly takes in the lights. Tony itches to turn on the radio, _something_ to fill the void, but any time he so much as shifts in his seat he sees Steve cut his eyes at him.

"Oh my god," Steve says softly, 6.2 miles from his initial outburst. He uncrosses his arms and leans toward the window. "Can you turn up here?"

Grateful for the change in tone, Tony slows down and makes the turn into the development. Steve is practically plastered to the window. "You know this neighborhood?"

"It's hard to tell; so much has changed," Steve says, frustrated.

Tony makes an executive decision to stop and walk through. It'll keep Steve from fogging up his window - oh, that gets his mind going - and hopefully satisfy whatever curiosity he's got about the neighborhood.

"So what exactly is it we're looking for?" Tony asks, glancing from a house with a huge blow-up Santa to one with a simple tree. There doesn't seem to be a lot of neighborly competition on this street, which is probably a blessing.

"I'll know in a minute. Hang on, cross the street."

In Steve's excitement, he grabs Tony's wrist firmly and pulls him along to the other side. Here there are a couple new off-shoots of streets, and Steve mutters, "Oh my god," before renewing his grip and guiding Tony along. Tony lets himself be led as his mind races. Steve's controlling hands could be so useful in other ways. Anywhere on his body, really, or even restricted to the wrists; Tony would be alright with that.

The houses are closer together on this street, which seems to cause some confusion for Steve. Ultimately, though, he stops before a house that looks just like the ones to the right and left and murmurs, "This is it."

"Excellent," Tony says, smiling. After a moment, when Steve still hasn't elaborated, he goes on. "What, what is it?"

"Oh." Steve seems to come back from whatever moment he was reliving. He lets go of Tony's wrist and pushes his hands firmly into his pockets. "My pal Bucky, his grandmother used to live here, I'm sure of it. We'd spend Thanksgiving here."

His voice has that nostalgic quality to it that Tony's never quite been able to comprehend. Memories can be good, he supposes, but he's always seen the present as the better point of focus. If you do the present right then it'll be better than the memories anyway.

He thinks about saying as much, but one look at Steve's sad-yet-happy expression and he thinks better of it. It's not the first time he's gotten a sinking feeling that Bucky might have been more than just a 'pal'. It shouldn't bother him as much as it does.

"D'you think they'd let us in?" Steve says, and that's when Tony has to put on the brakes.

"Not a good idea, buddy, not unless you want to spend the night in a jail cell."

"Right," Steve says, accepting his advice for once. Tony feels a rush of relief, until Steve moves quickly toward the backyard, saying, "Just a quick look around back, and then we can go."

"Jesus Christ," Tony mutters, following him for better or worse. He might need backup, after all. "And Pepper tries to say _I_ make poor decisions."

There's a playground around back, and Tony swears that Steve starts to get choked up. He sighs and digs out his phone. This was not really how he expected this trip to go. He checks how his stock did during the day and makes a couple notes of things to change before the market opens in the morning, and by the time he's done, Steve looks like he might be coerced into returning to the non-trespassing area of the neighborhood.

The walk back to the car is quiet. Tony doesn't really know what to say, not when it's clear that Steve's emotions are all up in the air. Steve stops and takes a picture of an elegantly decorated pine tree with his phone, and Tony doesn't even have to remind him how to use it.

By the time they get to the car, Steve's got a small smile playing on his lips which, Tony figures, is better than looking a wrong move away from tears.

"Back to headquarters?" Tony asks, hitting the locks. He really has no hopes of anything else happening tonight.

Steve glances up to catch Tony's eye. "Sure." He settles into his seat and, as Tony flips the key to start up the car, Steve turns toward him and says, "Thank you."

"Yeah, it's no problem," Tony says, putting the car in gear. He glances up at his mirror and is just about to let off the brake when Steve's hand covers his on the gear shift.

Tony glances up, caught off guard just slightly. Steve's eyes are lit up like, well, Christmas. "I mean it. This was great."

Tony swallows, his throat suddenly dry. "Yeah, good. I'm glad you had fun."

Steve's hand slips back to its position next to him, and Tony pulls himself together. As he nears the turn to leave the development, Steve quips, "Next year, we're doing it on my bike."

Tony grins and guns it back on to the main road.

******

Heartened by the relative success of his last plan, Tony looks toward the next one and quickly discovers he's out of ideas. They've seen all the sights he can think of in the area, and he already knows Steve won't be up for the extravagance of flying somewhere for a fancy dinner or something. When he asks Pepper for advice, she just encourages him to go for "something traditional, Tony. Don't overthink it."

'Traditional' could be anything, he thinks, until he sees a flyer on a bulletin board on his walk home that seems like it was waiting there for him. He tears off the little piece of paper with the phone number and website and walks back to headquarters with a smile on his face.

*

"At least tell me where we're going this time," Steve begs after Tony convinces him to at least wear a jacket.

"Queens," Tony answers, very graciously he thinks, but offers no more information.

The website had seemed fairly legit, but it's still something of a relief to see there are other well-meaning Christmas-clad people waiting when they show up at the warehouse indicated on the flyer. The lead guy, a frazzled, slightly gray-haired man in his fifties, shoves a stack of sheet music into both of their hands and mutters about running behind. He disappears into the back before either of them can even say hello.

"Tony," Steve says warily, "what's this?"

"We're going caroling!" Tony says brightly. He hopes his smile is convincing, because he can think of about fifteen better uses of his time all within the surrounding three blocks. If this doesn't work, he really is out of ideas.

Steve stares at him blankly and, after a moment, his fingers go to his belt loop. He smiles a polite smile at the strangers around them and then pulls Tony aside somewhat forcefully. He leans in close and keeps his voice low, his tone urgent. "Tony, I don't sing."

"Nonsense, everyone sings. C'mon, it'll be fun. That guy has a _reindeer tie_ , a sure sign of a good time."

"I'm not _kidding_ , Tony," Steve says a bit more angrily, stepping further forward and backing Tony against the wall. It's less intimidating than just plain hot, but before Tony can let himself get worked up about it, Steve's anger gives way to nervousness and his hand is back at his belt loop.

Tony sighs. "I thought you'd like something more traditional."

"I don't even know half these songs," Steve says, holding up "Let It Snow" as an example.

"Oh, right," Tony realizes. "I guess I just figured all Christmas carols were old as dirt."

"Even if they were, I still don't sing," Steve says, resolute. His cheeks are red, Tony notes, which means there's a story there he'd very much like to know.

The frazzled man comes bustling out, shooing everyone out the door. Tony and Steve follow the group out the door but quickly turn down the wrong street as they start down their path. They aren't even missed.

"Right, so. Got any business in Queens?" Tony asks, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. All his alternative planning seems just as boring now that he's got his freedom back.

Steve shucks his jacket and shrugs before noticing a window display at Walgreen's. He practically runs across the street to go in. Tony laughs and follows him, making mental notes. _Hates caroling, loves drug stores._ No wonder his ideas never work.

The thing that caught Steve's eye turns out to be a disappointment once they get inside. "I thought they were real," Steve says sadly as he stares at the huge artificial Christmas trees.

Tony chuckles and pats his friend on the back. "I don't think Walgreen's is generally in the market for actual pine trees. I didn't know you were a fan."

Steve shrugs, his hands going into his pockets as he starts wandering through the store. "When I was growing up, we always visited my grandparents on Christmas Eve. Grandpa would always take all us kids out into the woods and let us pick out the best tree. He'd cut it down, then we'd put it up in the living room and help Grandma decorate it."

He's got that same wistful look, and Tony realizes he'd probably appreciate nostalgia more if he'd had such positive childhood experiences. Even though he can't appreciate the memory, he does appreciate the smile it brings to Steve's face. "That's why you like real trees."

Steve nods. "Fury left out an artificial one at headquarters last Christmas, I guess to make me feel more at home. I put it back in the box after a couple days, though. Wasn't the same."

Tony tosses an arm around his shoulders, offering comfort as the gears turn in his head. "Come on, let's get you some more Twix bars."

******

Unfortunately, Steve won't pack up for a three-day trip without some additional information, so Tony walks around his place gathering things he might need and offering the bare minimum of information.

"Tony," Steve finally says, voice bearing no argument. He takes the pair of socks from Tony's hands and raises his eyebrows, expectant.

Tony stares back, unmoving, until he realizes this is Steve, and he'll ultimately do whatever Steve wants him to do. "Fine. Look, it's no secret that I've been trying to show you a proper, modern Christmas."

"Is that what all this has been about?" Steve asks, looking as if he can't believe it. Tony can't think of anything else it might have been, but Steve's confusion is genuine, as always. He even looks somewhat disappointed.

"Yeah, you just seemed so put out by it at first, I thought showing you the best parts would help. And I know it's all kind of gone to shit so far, but I promise this one will be worth it."

"'Trust you'?" Steve says, amused.

Tony grins and pats him on the shoulder. "Precisely."

Steve's curiosity seems to double when he sees they're taking the Nissan. "I thought you hated driving the truck."

"I never said that. Just that it doesn't handle nearly as well as the Mini. Or the suit." Tony stares into the distance, imagining it. "I really wish I could just take the suit everywhere."

"And what, leave me to thumb it?"

Tony eyes him for a moment. "I could carry you."

It seems to work as flirtation, as Steve ducks his head and then loads himself into the truck.

"Anyway, I'm making you drive once we get on the Parkway," Tony says, following suit. "No GPS, I promise."

"The Parkway?" Steve repeats incredulously. "Tony, where the hell are you taking me?"

"You'll find out in two and a half hours," Tony says, grinning wickedly and revving the engine. Steve laughs and, at least for now, seems content with that answer.

*

They break down ten miles out from Poughkeepsie. Tony bangs his head against the dash and mumbles about how nothing is ever allowed to go right.

"I have no idea what happened," Steve says, sounding guilty. "What should I do? Should I call somebody?"

"No," Tony says, voice muffled by the dash in front of his mouth. "I can fix it, just... let me wallow for a minute."

Steve stays silent, which... is not the reaction Tony was expecting. When he sits up, Steve looks far guiltier than he should. He runs his hand over the back of his neck and says, "Did I ruin your last surprise?"

"Steve, I can fix the truck. I might need some of that superhuman body heat of yours to stay alive in the snow, but I can fix it."

"I just know how important this Christmas thing is to you, and I always make it go wrong--"

Tony barks out an indignant laugh, the implication of Steve's statement hitting him hard. "This 'Christmas thing' isn't-- Jesus, I wasn't doing this for-- No, you know what, forget it." He unbuckles his seatbelt and pops open the door. "Let me fix the truck, then we'll go home."

"What the-- Tony!" Steve yells, following him out into the snowstorm. He's already at Tony's side by the time he pops open the cover. "Would you calm down for a second? When did I say I wanted to go home?"

Tony ignores him, leaning in under the hood to avoid the snow and to get a closer look.

"Hey," Steve says more forcefully, grabbing at Tony's shoulder, "what's your problem?"

"I wasn't doing this because I love Christmas, Steve!" Tony yells back, wrenching his shoulder from Steve's grip. "As a matter of fact, most of my Christmases have been pretty lousy."

"Well what, then?" Steve demands, crossing his arms.

"It was for you, you dumbass! Christmas is supposed to be about being with the people you care about!" Tony turns back to the truck and addresses the rest of his tirade to the engine. "Doing stupid things like seeing the lights or twisting your ankle trying to look cool and... making memories, apparently. Just-- _Christ_ , Steve, I was just trying to show you a good time." He spots the cause of the problem and, simple as that, gets it fixed. He knows without testing that it'll work when they try again. "There, we should be able to get home now. It wasn't your fault, just," he waves his hand, "lack of use."

"Tony. Where were you taking me this weekend?"

Tony glances up. Steve's arms aren't crossed any more. His thumb is hooked into his belt loop, as if he'd been messing with it a moment ago but recently stopped. His expression is earnest, with no trace of the anger from before.

Tony shrugs, past the point of caring. "We were going up to Hudson. I rented us a cabin for the weekend in the middle of the woods. Thought we'd go hiking, maybe skiing. And then... they have a tree farm up there."

"A tree farm."

"Yeah, you know, where you can choose and cut your own Christmas tree. We could load it in the truck and bring it back to headquarters. I'm sure everyone would wanna pitch in with the decorating."

"You're getting me a tree," Steve says, taking a step forward.

" _Was_ , getting you a tree. Really don't see the point now, what with all the shouting and--"

"Christ, Tony, shut up," Steve insists, taking that next giant step forward, his hands resting at the base of Tony's neck as he pulls him in and kisses him within an inch of his life. Tony makes a "huh" noise, as if he hadn't expected, let alone hoped, that this might be a potential outcome. The effect is lost when Steve's hands slide to the back of his neck and he _pushes_ , his tongue slipping past Tony's lips as he presses him into the front of the truck. The groan Tony utters in response is hard to pass off as nonchalant, but Tony's no longer worried about appearances. He lets his hands do their own exploring as his tongue tangles with Steve's, hands coming to rest on Steve's ass.

" _Fuck_ ," Steve mutters breathlessly when they part for air, his forehead resting against Tony's.

Tony laughs in between short breaths and says, "You really shouldn't hang out with me so much. It's turning your language to shit."

"I'll hang out with whoever I damn well please," Steve says, smirking and running his teeth over Tony's stubble. Tony makes an appreciative noise and rocks forward, hands still palming Steve's ass. Steve mutters another string of curse words and says, "How isolated did you say this cabin was again?"

Tony grins. "Let's just say if there was an avalanche, no one would even come looking for us unless we wanted them to."

"And the beds?"

"Enormous."

"Sure you can't fly us there?"

"You're the one who insisted I leave the suit at home."

"We should get moving then," Steve concludes, his statement belied by his leaning in and licking his way into Tony's mouth. Tony's hands slip under Steve's shirt and over the expanse of hot skin underneath as he twists his tongue into Steve's mouth and leaves him panting. He can't wait to map out every inch of that body, and he finds himself muttering the fact out loud as Steve catches his breath.

"You. Cabin. Now," Steve mutters, pushing him in the direction of the driver's seat. He closes the hood of the car with a deftness usually reserved for battle and all but sprints to the other side of the car.

The car starts up perfectly, a tiny victory in relation to everything else that's just happened. Tony pulls back onto the road, removes his coat and counts to ten before saying, "You do realize we're still an hour away from the cabin."

"That's fine," Steve says, unfazed. His left hand traces its way down Tony's now bare arm. "That gives me plenty of time to figure out everything I want to do when we get there."

Tony gets them there in half the time.

THE END


End file.
